This Man
by MegElemental
Summary: Drabble or short one-shot for each new episode. A new Doctor, new companion, old problems. Rated T for later chapters.
1. Who I am

**A/N: This is going to be a collecting of drabbles and short one-shots, prompted by each episode of New Who. Enjoy!**

New regenerations were always tricky. This time was no different. The long road to discovery was bumpy and tiring. He was a whole new person, a whole new man. The problem was, he didn't quite know who this man was, as of yet. And who better to help him find himself than a Scottish, _ginger _girl who had known him as this man for her whole life. She knew him better than he knew himself- not that he'd tell her that.

_He was a man who knew how to get out of sticky situations._

They were hanging by their arms over a seemingly bottomless pit- in fact, the Doctor wished it _was _bottomless, but unfortunately a ravenous beast lay at the bottom, ready to snap up a Doctor and his companion for a light snack. The chains around their wrists clanked slightly as they swayed in the draught coming from the closed doors, and he ran through various plans in his head. As most of them needed either a cherry picker or a team of highly trained squirrels, none were actually feasible. He turned to Amy, who surely must be scared. He thought back to his other companions; Donna would have given him an earful, Rose would have been trying to get out, Martha… actually, he wasn't sure what Martha would have done.

'Sorry,' he called to Amy, who swung gently beside him. He glanced at her, fearing tears or _something, _but was amazed to find her smiling.

'Do you know what this reminds me of?' she asked him, chuckling.

'Errr…' he said, rooting through his brain. 'Not really.'

'You know… in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, when the knights are singing the Spamelot song and there's that prisoner clapping in the dungeons?'

'Oh yeah,' the Doctor said, and watched, bemused, as she laughed. A spark of an idea lit in his mind, as he watched her laugh, and he began to climb up his chain.

'What are you doing?' Amy asked, as he pulled himself up. Hmm, this body doesn't have much upper body strength, he mused as he hauled himself up 'till his pockets were level with Amy's hands.

'Can you reach into my pocket and get my screwdriver?' he called down. 'Preferably before my arms fall off.'

'Just about,' she called back, and he felt her hand rummage around in his pocket. He focussed on the cold metal cutting into his palm, trying not to think about her hand skating across his hip.

'Got it!' she cried triumphantly, pulling it out, and he gently lowered himself back down.

'Try and pass it,' he said, and Amy did try, but it was just impossible. The Doctor saw the danger of the screwdriver dropping into the pit, just like they would be, and stopped her.

'Try and flick the switch.'

'This one?'

'Yes, that one. The only one.'

'Alright, no need to be snarky.' Amy Pond would take as long as she needed, thank you very much, raggedy Doctor or no raggedy Doctor. She flicked the switch and the screwdriver buzzed quietly, the green light shining towards the Doctor's manacles. He grasped the chain as the first cuff popped, and did the same with the other hand. He somehow, without killing himself, swung onto the side. Safe.

'Doctor!' Amy called, reminding him she was still hanging. He quickly fiddled with the controls, and the retractable floor slid once more over the pit. He walked over and she dropped the screwdriver, which he caught. Good reflexes, this one.

He quickly freed her, and caught her as she dropped. Once again, he had her in his arms.

'That was your fault,' she said, giving him a hard stare.

'I didn't mean to land the TARDIS on the holy shrine. And how was I to know they had such imaginative ways of execution?' She just looked at him. 'Ok, so it was my fault. But we should get going,' He let her go, reluctantly. He was the kind of man who liked to be close to someone, he found out.

_He didn't mind not being able to sleep._

Before, in his previous body, he had hated nights. His companions had gone to sleep, and he had to wait until the morning. All the excitement and adventure was put on hold, and he was chafing at the bit by the morning. He was anxious to move, never happy in one place, not 'domestic'.

As he lay in the stone cell, he stared through the open ceiling to the stars above. There was the milky way, Amy's home galaxy, that small glitter in the distance. There was the small dark place which should have held the bright sun of his home planet. Gallifrey.

He didn't feel such an aching sense of loss and guilt about his home anymore. He had been a different man when he made the decision, three different men ago now. It's a lot of time, and he'd gotten over it. Of course, he still mourned, but the universe didn't seem like such an empty place anymore. He had earth, which in a sense was as much his home as Gallifrey was. He had all the planets to explore, and he had Amelia Pond. Amy.

It was a peculiar way of building a cell, he pondered, staring at the night sky. No ceilings. They'd be out in a jiffy once Amy woke up. Jiffy. Maybe not a word he should put in his permanent vocabulary. It was just his luck they'd managed to knock her out while capturing her. The escape he had planned was a two-man job, or a one girl-one time lord job, so he had to wait until she woke. It was something along the lines of her being hoisted over the wall by a certain strong, sexy Time Lord, and then running beck to the TARDIS to fetch the grappling hook. The cover of night would last until morning- their planet's revolution around their main sequence star was such that their year was shorter than their day. He'd tried to explain this to Amy, but all she could say was that Christmas would be everyday. Honestly, the wonder of physics pushed aside for a wisecrack about presents.

It was a cold planet- maybe a few degrees less than earth, and the open ceiling made the cell draughty. In her unconscious state, Amy's body had sought out the strongest source of heat in the cell; him. She lay curled up against him, her head on his shoulder, and he enjoyed the moment while it lasted, playing with her (enviously) ginger hair. In her sleep, she looked more like the little girl he'd known, the little Scottish girl who was so brave, and yet so scared of the crack in her wall. When she woke up there would be a fuss, but for now he was content to feel her single heart beat in a strange rhythm with his two. Two new hearts. Ready for new loves. He could feel the old pain for Rose, but he was a new man.

Amy snuffled in her sleep- even her snores sounded slightly Scottish, ore maybe he heard that because he expected to. He smiled, first at her tranquil face. He was a relaxed man, quite happy contemplating mysteries of the universe in that time humans used for sleep, such as paradoxes, the time vortex, and the human girl who lay against him who had completely managed to steal both his hearts. Not that he'd tell her.

A new man. That's what he was. Different cloth, different pattern, different colour. And he was free.

**A/N: From the first episode. Please review. On another note, my friend and I are doing a 6 county bike ride for a charity called Ovacome, for Ovarian cancer. My friend's aunt recently died from the cancer, and she wishes to repay the charity for the support they gave her family. If you wish to donate, go to: .com/alice-megan-6-county-tour**

**You can also join the facebook group, Megan and Alice 6 county cycle for Ovacome. **


	2. So Old, So Kind

_So old, and so kind…_

_You don't interfere unless there are children crying…_

…_any parent knows that."_

"_Are you a parent?"_

_Who says I haven't got kids?_

…_last of their kind…_

_Our children were crying._

"_Grandfather?"_

"_Jenny. She's your daughter."_

The Doctor weeps for his lost family.

_I had a family once. Once I had a planet, too, and a home. I had companions, I had love, and I had old adversaries. Now, it is just me. Now I'm a new man, I don't know them and they don't know me. The curse of the Time Lords is remembering, but unable to go back to who you were. Rose was lucky I loved her for two regenerations, but no more. Eleven times I've changed everything, teeth, hair, age. Getting younger as I get older. I must have a complex._

_I know you, star whale. I know how you feel. But you can never know what I feel. Regeneration cheats death, but skips life. I lose it each time. Each time I lose more. After eleven, I'm wearing thin. I can feel my age, despite my youthful appearance. And it weighs me down._

_Can I keep myself afloat? _

_New man, I can move on. But never can I leave it behind._

**A/N: A bit of angst from our favourite doctor. But, I think that he's seen so much, he must be getting a little bit world-weary.**

Concern

Being thrown up by a huge beast was never going to be the most enjoyable of experiences. In fact, it had to be the least dignified escape he'd ever made in all his eleven existences, and that was saying something.

He had expected the disgusting smell, the feeling of revulsion and the slightly hard landing, but he hadn't expected the sudden rush of horror he felt when he saw Amy lying motionless on the floor beside him.

He sprung up from the wet floor instantaneously, wrinkling his nose at the smell, glancing around at the surroundings.

_Must be an overflow pipe, _he thought, whipping out his new sonic screwdriver and waving it around. Yup, definitely an overflow pipe. Once the screwdriver was safely back in the pocket of (sort of) his soaking wet tweed jacket he rushed to Amy, who still lay out cold on the concrete.

No broken bones, thank Rassilon. No sign of concussion, either. She probably just hit her head during the journey.

_Humans were so breakable. They only had the one body: one chance. One shot. No mistakes allowed._

He felt bad that her hair was soaking wet. He did love her hair. Eleven tries and he'd never managed such a good colour. And what was with the floppy-haired, skinny look? He'd already gone through that once.

He stayed next to Amy until she began to stir; then he moved away, not wanting to be caught caring, not wanting … he wasn't really sure what he was afraid of.

When she opened her eyes he was fiddling with the door.

'No broken bones, no sign of concussion, and yes, you are covered in sick,' he rattled off, keeping it clinical and brisk, not wanting her to know his worry, his concern. He had forgotten she had seen that side of him when she was a little, perceptive Scottish girl in an English village, that he had already bared his soul to Amelia Pond. And she hadn't missed the opportunity to study it.

**A/N: After that part, I wondered how he knew she had nothing wrong with her. So I thought I'd fill in the gaps.**


	3. Keep buggering on

**A/N: A few drabbles that were sort of inspired by the newest episode, but only one really relates to it. The others were just little ideas. Oh yeah, and what about these new retro Daleks, then? They seem to come in a rather fetching selection of iPod nano colours. I think I preferred the old ones. And I would love one to bring me tea, but no, I have to make it myself. C'est la vie.**

Obtainable

Amy Pond had never been afraid of the Doctor. In truth, she had never been afraid of anything much, apart from the crack in her wall that preyed on her dreams, disrupting her nights. She had been afraid of her wedding day, afraid that she would have to leave her raggedy doctor behind in her childhood, the dream that he would take her away lost forever. Married women didn't run of with strange men.

But he came and saved her, again, the third time in her life. Her not-so-raggedy-anymore doctor turned up the night before he wedding, allowing her a second chance at childhood. She dreamed of exploring the universe with him at her side, showing her his world. It was like some of her old games, most of which she remembered with a slight blush; the Doctor, rescuing her from an alien, the doctor, saving her from Prisoner zero. Her handsome prince had been a young man in tattered clothes, with a small blue box that had a library and a swimming pool in the same room. His kingdom.

Then she met him again, as an adult; her dreams seemed to come true. He turned up at the right time and saved her again, but this time she felt different. He felt different. Her feelings had matured over the years, and they were (or looked, at least) roughly the same age. But he seemed so outraged at her job, so taken aback that the little Amelia Pond had grown up, _'You were a little girl five minutes ago!' _and, to her annoyance, she had felt embarrassed. It was true, her job was pretty awful, but she had little choice. It paid the bills; what more did she need? His angry outburst also made her heart falter- he would always think of her as the scared, little girl with the crack in her wall. And it didn't help that everybody kept reminding him of it.

_If someone asks me one more time whether he's the raggedy doctor from my cartoons, I won't be responsible for my actions_ she fumed quietly.

And then he left again- her eyes threatened tears as she watched the blue box (TARDIS) dematerialize and she resigned herself to twelve more agonizing years. And then Rory proposed. And she said yes. And she had never been more frightened in her life. And he saved her. Again. So, it was only fair that she should go with him and save him a couple of times to get even. And maybe show him she wasn't a little girl any more.

The jolly adventures she had expected, dreamed of, dramatized with her homemade dolls, turned out to be darker, more grown-up. A Grimm fairytale. But she didn't mind. She was with her Doctor, and she knew that was where she belonged. And although she saw him vanquish countless monsters and threats to earth, she was never frightened of him. Whenever he went mad, shouted, that one time he completely blew up and attacked the Dalek, she wasn't scared. He was always the same doctor who held her hand when she was scared, who made impossible promises, who had said her name was a good name – like a fairytale- and she'd had to change it (it didn't sound right when other people said it). She was Amy, but with the doctor she was Amelia, and he called her that often. Too often. She knew he still saw her as a lost child, but she'd keep trying. Call Amy Pond anything you want, but she was stubborn, and she knew precisely what she wanted. It was just a question of how long it took her to get it.

Carpe Diem

He couldn't promise her forever- he'd done that before and the ending had been far from an eternity away- and she knew it. He couldn't even promise her tomorrow. He knew that they would be separated eventually, though he dreaded the day. No, forever was out of the question; but he would always be able to give her today. After all, it was what she deserved.

Fashion sense

Bowties were definitely safer around Amy Pond. For one thing, they couldn't be locked in car doors- he had never been forced to explain himself by a _human _before. Amy Pond was something new, and also a danger while he was in his current attire. So, after changing his shirt, he decided on a bow tie. 'Ha, Pond,' he thought triumphantly. 'Try and shut _that _in a car door.'

After a while, he decided it was safe again to wear a tie. He was growing nostalgic for them, as he had worn them so often in his previous reincarnation. Hoping Amy had forgotten, he swapped his (now relatively dirty) bow tie for a rather nice tie, in his opinion, and bravely went out to face his companion. They were visiting ancient Greece- no cars there.

Her saw her green eyes- like his, he remembered; he had green eyes now- flick to the changed piece of clothing, but she said nothing. He gave an internal sigh of relief, and thought himself safe.

Of course, he was anything but. He had barely said, 'Right, let's go,' before she turned to him, grasped his tie, pulled him towards her and kissed him fiercely. For a moment he stood quite still, shocked, but then he relaxed.

_Maybe I should wear a tie more often, _was his last coherent thought.

**A/N: I hope you liked them, and I would love to know of any good drabble titles you think would be good. Tell me in a review.**


	4. Bit exciting

**What goes around…**

The Doctor hummed quietly to himself as he explored the new TARDIS. At first, he and Amy had only looked for, and eventually found, the essential rooms- bedroom (for Amy, of course), bathroom, toilet, wardrobe- and while his new companion familiarized herself with the huge bath, he decided to investigate the other rooms. It was always one of his favourite parts of a newly-designed TARDIS interior, as there were the rooms he recognized, and others he had never seen before in his life. For an hour or more he wandered the hallways, unearthing the library (sans swimming pool), the garden, the zero room.

It irked him, however, that the swimming pool continued to elude him. It wasn't so much that he wanted to use it- he often had better things to do- but he would have liked the option. He often thought the TARDIS was still a little cross at him stealing her all those years ago.

_But if I hadn't, _he thought to the ship, _you would be gone with the rest of your kind, killed in the time war. _The humming that emanated from the walls at all times changed slightly in pitch, and the Doctor knew she was agreeing with him.

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his stolen tweed jacket and hummed merrily as he surveyed the choice of doors in front of him. One looked grand and was beautifully carved; one was an ordinary, English suburban front door and the other looked tatty and slightly in need of a good lick of paint. The Doctor closed his eyes, wiggled his finger in front of his face and then opened them again. His finger would have been pointing to the front door, had it not suddenly switched places with the other two. Instead, he found himself looking at the tatty, decrepit door.

'Ah well,' he said, shrugging. 'I can come back for the others.' Then he realized he was talking to himself, and he decided just to walk though the door.

He didn't really see the room properly straight away- the door handle had been a little bit flaky and he had been busy wiping his hand on his blazer. He was, however, almost immediately alerted to the other occupant of the room by the scream.

'Doctor! What… what are you doing?' Amy squeaked, and the Doctor realised his blunder immediately. He was standing in the bathroom he had left Amy in over an hour before, the mirrors now completely fogged up by the heated water. His companion lay in a bubble-filled bath, only her head visible (thank rassilon), her wide green eyes staring at him in shock. Steam curled gently around her face and her wet red hair was stuck to her brow.

'Whoops,' he said, softly, and then he suddenly found the ceiling very interesting. Amy just blinked at him through her bubbles.

'I got lost,' he explained, still looking everywhere but at her.

'You got lost,' she repeated, her accent coming out strong. He gulped.

'Err, yes…'

'It's your TARDIS? How could you have got lost?'

'It's new!' he defended himself, glaring at her but quickly averting his eyes again. 'Everything moved. I told you I didn't know where the swimming pool was!'

'I thought you meant the swimming pool moved about,' she shouted at him.

'Because that makes a whole lot of sense,' he said scathingly.

'A lot more sense than every room moving about!' she yelled, and then they fell into an awkward silence.

'Err, would you mind, umm, leaving?' she asked quietly. He started, forgetting that she happened to be… in the bath.

'Oh yeah. Of course. I'll… be going, then,' he said, before he quickly escaped through the door he came through, breathing a sigh of relief when he returned once more into the room with the four doors.

'I know that was you,' he said sternly, shaking his finger at the wall. The TARDIS didn't answer.

'What are you trying to do, eh?' he asked again, but his constant companion remained silent. Sentient, but silent.

He once again stared hard at the doors.

'Right, not you,' he said, giving the shabby door an apprehensive look, and instead chose the posh door. As soon as he stepped through it, however, he realised that the TARDIS wasn't giving up that easily. He was, of course, back in the bathroom, and Amy was just getting out of the bath. He fell immediately still and wondered if he could quietly back out before she saw him, but unfortunately she looked up and yelped, pulling her towel tighter around her.

He was chased out the bathroom by a very angry, wet, soapy Scottish girl who seemed determined to hurt him very badly.

'I'm sorry!' he called out behind him. 'I didn't mean to, it was the…'

'TARDIS, yes, you said,' Amy said, managing to look extremely scary in a (rather small) towel, before he found the door slammed in his face.

'Yes, yes, very funny,' he muttered. It may be because he was paranoid, but he could have sworn the TARDIS was laughing at him.

**By any other name**

She was starting to understand him; starting to see behind his bluster and positive front. She saw it every time his eyes burned with rage, when his face was soft with emotion. Every time he told her she was brilliant.

She also knew because he called her Pond.

It was Amelia when he was being stern- a constant reminder that he knew her when she was younger, that she was younger and that he had authority. It didn't work; she just thought it sounded like a fairy tale.

He called her Amy when he was relaxed, scared for her, just as her name. In other words, when he let his guard down.

When he got too close, too fast, it was back to Pond. 'Come on, Pond.' Hurry up, Pond. Pond. Her last name was awful, and a better ending to 'duck' than Amy. But when it came from him, it was different. It was special. It was a sign she had got even closer to his hidden self. It was like coaxing a frightened rabbit out into the open. Little by little, step by step.

**Fair**

She supposed it was only fair he had River Song. She had Rory, didn't she? It was good he would have someone when she left to get married.

So why did she feel so disappointed?

…**Comes around**

The Doctor was in the bath, staring out a rubber duck, when the door flew open.

'Oh, sorry,' said Amy's voice, amused. 'I was looking for the swimming pool.'

It was then the Doctor saw the wicked smile on her face, and remembered that he hadn't put any bubble bath in.

He blamed the TARDIS.

**A/N: The idea for the matchmaking TARDIS was ****from Maira der Panda. Thanks a lot! Great idea. The rest is from the recent episode. Not very linked, I'm afraid- I spent most of it behind the sofa. The weeping angels scare me more than anything else on Doctor Who. Yes, I am a wuss. Anyway, please review; and tell me any drabbles or one-shots you'd like to see- and maybe I'll update sooner than next week!**


	5. Like a Star

Pause for thought

Many would be surprised at Amy Pond, thinking. The Kissogram, the sixth-form drop out, barely enough qualifications to get a hold on the bottom of the working ladder. But right now, she had nothing else to do but think.

She was getting married tomorrow morning. To Rory Williams. It may be one hell of a long night before, but she knew the time would eventually come when she would have to choose, between her new life with the Doctor and a normal one with Rory. As she sat on the damp, muddy ground, itching to open her eyes but knowing she couldn't, she felt again the Doctor's head leaning against hers, his warm, comforting hands, his kiss on her forehead.

As she had nothing to do other than play the victim (again) she thought about what she really wanted. She thought of Rory, and his proposal- why did she say yes? But it all seemed very far away in the past, a lifetime ago. A lifetime without the Doctor.

It was obvious; she had been falling ever since she had first stepped in the TARDIS- no, ever since he first flopped out f his blue box when she was seven, demanded apples and promptly destroyed her kitchen. A love of fourteen years, a love of five minutes. Well; it went some way into clearing up the age difference.

She knew who she wanted, down in her heart. She knew she would never be able to go back to Rory, and settle- it would be unfair on all of them. It was then she decided that her path was clear. And Amy Pond had never been one to ignore her path, no matter how bumpy it may be.

It was him, simply and only him. And it always had been

Confusion

He kissed back for a second, even though he knew he shouldn't.

He had felt a surge of disappointment and… jealousy? When he found out she was marrying Rory, of all people. A _nurse._

Then he felt guilty- he was a better man for Amy than he could ever be.

He did kiss back for a second- and he knew he would again. Whatever the consequences.

Comet

Amy Pond was aware that she would not be able to stay with the Doctor forever. She understood that he would feel pain when she left.

But surely, if they stretched it out, dancing around the unspoken facts between them, when the time finally came when they had to leave they would forever feel the missed chance? That the what if would plague them all their lives (and his multiple ones)?

They should love like a shooting star- blazing brilliant and bright in the sky, beautiful and radiant and memorable- and though they burn out fast, there would be no regrets. They would have been fantastic. Why couldn't the Doctor see that? His nine hundred years had blinkered him. What was it someone famous once said?

"It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all."

The Doctor would know who it was. She would ask him, after she had her kiss.

Mind Games

(another great prompt from Maira der Panda; you are my muse!)

For the first time since she first entered it, Amy's bedroom felt less like a sanctuary, and more like a prison. Night after night she tossed and turned, unable to get the weeping angel out of her head for good. It was still there, the memory of a foreign body in her mind, climbing through a virtual screen. It had imprinted itself on her brain, hiding, only coming out when her eyes were shut and her mind wandered freely through the eternal land of dreams.

It stood behind, her, threatening; its arm around Rory's neck, Jeff's neck, _his _neck- she knows she can't look away because they'll die, but her eyes are itching and closing and she can't stop it… She wakes the moment her eyes shut, gasping like a fish out of water, tears streaming down her cheeks.

The Doctor had told her about Father Octavian- it had obviously given the image of an image of an angel in her mind ideas on how to drive her completely crazy.

It got to the point when she dreaded the time when the Doctor sent her off to bed; 'you've got to be well rested for out next big day, Amy. You're only human- you need to sleep.' He often reminded her as a protective parent, but her feelings for him were anything but the feelings of a child towards a father. In fact, her feelings scared her. They were impossible. Which only made them more desirable.

One night she just sat in the console room, wrapped in a blanket and clutching a steaming mug of hot chocolate as she watched the Doctor tinker with the machine.

'Bed, Amy,' he said, not looking away from his screwdriver.

'Can't I just…'

'We need to keep your body clock as close to normal as possible. Otherwise you could get ill.' He said this in a detached way, his concentration caught up with whatever he was doing.

'Please, I…'

'Amy, go,' he said, finality in his tone, so she left. Mumbling mutinously, she dragged the blanket behind her, still holding her mug.

The nightmares came quickly that night. She had barely closed her eyes before she was wide awake, sweating and shaking. Groaning, she curled up in on herself, wishing for something to happen, for these terrors preying on her mind to leave and never come back.

'How long?'

She looked up, tear-streaked eyes, catching sight of the Doctor leaning against the wall, in just his shirt and braces. His eyes were dark, angry.

'Since the angels,' she said, sitting up and wiping her face- she didn't want him to see her like this, helpless and _afraid. _He had enough worries as it was.

'Why didn't you tell me?' he asked, his voice still angry, and she wasn't sure whether it was she who he was mad at or something else.

'They're just nightmares,' she said, defensively. 'I didn't think you needed to know everything that happens to me.'

'Oh, Amy Pond, they're more than just nightmares.' He came over, his face soft once more, and sat on the bed next to her.

'They're just nightmares,' she repeated stubbornly, crossing her arms.

'Come here,' he said, holding out his arms, and she slipped into them, comfortable in the warmth.

'Can you stop them?' she asked, feeling pathetic, but he was her Doctor and he'd seen her at seven years old scared of a crack in the wall so surely he won't leave her for just being a wuss in her dreams?

'I can try,' he said, his voice serious, and he positioned her so she had her head on his lap and his fingers were at her temples. All of a sudden, she was asleep, stuck in her mind with only and angel for company; but something was different.

She was facing the angel, and it was moving, even though she had her eyes wide open. Her heart beat frantically, as she stared at the menace haunting her, and she almost lost her nerve when it started towards her, but then someone took her hand. The Doctor stepped up beside her, and she remembered when he had faced the eye of the Atraxi holding the hand of a little Amelia Pond. She wondered whether it was for her sake, or for his.

'You should be gone,' he said, and his tone was hard, angry, dangerous. The angel twisted and writhed, caught by their staring.

'You like exploring people's minds? Then try mine.' His voice dropped- it was coaxing, almost seductive. 'Come on; try mine.' The angel stared at him and then vanished, taking Amy by surprise. She stepped back but the Doctor's hand still held her's tight; his eyes closed tightly and he dropped to the floor, brining her down with him. And then she woke again, this time in a world full of swirling light, golden veils of time shifting and changing, everything that ever was and that ever will be mixing and changing around them. They stood on a podium, safe in the eye of the storm, and the Doctor stood tall once more, watching as the angel flailed and struggled as it was pulled around in the maelstrom. It vanished again, but there was a finality about it- Amy knew it hadn't moved on. Her mind was clear. It was gone.

But where were they? She knew, almost innately; having seen the very same landscape whenever she looked into the Doctor's eyes and it was the eternal movement and life playing in his minds eye.

She took advantage of the fact that she was in his mind. She explored. Careful to keep holding tightly to the Doctor's hand- he had his eyes closed form the effort of expelling the angel from her mind to his- she stepped off the podium, their tranquil island in the storm, only to find another beneath her feet. As she walked, she looked. Faces and figures swirled around her, their images distorting and clearing in seconds. Faces of ten men that all looked very different but felt very familiar- they were him, in a sense, however strange that sounded.

Far-off, long dead planets stayed alive in his memory and she stared, amazed. The universe was laid out on a canvas, begging for someone to look, and she did.

It was a while until the Doctor regained his strength and realised what she was doing- it felt like five minutes. It could have been twelve years.

'No, Amy,' he said. 'That's enough.'

And then her eyes were open and she was back in her bedroom, looking up at the Doctor's face, his eyes tired but triumphant.

'There. Still think it was just nightmares?' Amy just ignored him and settled down to get more comfortable in his lap.

'What happened to the angel?' she asked sleepily.

'I took it into my mind. It couldn't cope with all the suffering, the time vortex. It tried to feed off it all at once and tore itself apart. It's gone now, Amy. You can sleep. Your dreams are your own again.'

'I saw your mind,' she mumbled.

'Dangerous place,' he smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, masked slightly by his floppy hair.

'It was beautiful,' she said, before her tired mind decided to turn off and recuperate. The Doctor watched her sleep for a while, not wanting to move in case he woke her up, but eventually his curiosity got the better of him and he put his hands to her temples once more and closed his eyes, slipping so effortlessly into her dreams it was as though he belonged there.

_The angel stood in front of her, holding the Doctor by the neck. But this time Amy wasn't scared. She walked forward, keeping the angel in sight. Upon reaching them, the Doctor gave her that smile- pride and happiness and love- and she smiled back before placing her hand on the angel's arm._

_It screamed, the high pitch ringing through the blank surroundings, before it crumbled to dust. A wind picked up and blew the remains away, swirling into the darkness of forgotten dreams. The Doctor smiled at her and took her in his arms. She closed her eyes…_

**A/N: Great Doctor who episode, especially the last bit! It was hilarious! And did you see the confidential? Apparently Karen Gillan got a bit carried away and put her hand on Matt Smith's inner thigh. Lol. Anyway, thanks to Maira der Panda for the great ideas; I only hope I do them justice!**


	6. Dear Points of View

Lead weight

Amy had been floating.

She had been gliding effortlessly through danger and time, running here and there through fire and flame but never getting burnt, unstoppable, untouchable…

Until now.

She didn't want to admit to the Doctor that she had been scared, frightened, _terrified, _when she couldn't see and was left on her own. She'd been prepared to die so he could go on- there was something easier to that than waiting for death to come with your eyes tight shut.

The stone angels had brought her fairy tale crashing down. The danger had been real, and the adventures had stopped being a childhood caper.

So it was understandable that she had been a bit unstable, a bit confused and disorientated when she did finally come crashing back to earth (that had nothing to do with the gravity). It was a shock to remember that she was getting married in the morning and she had no intention of doing so, and she had launched herself at the only way to escape.

Not that she regretted kissing the Doctor, but she still cringed over her behaviour. She had imagined revealing her feelings in a touching, tender moment, and everything would have been perfect- instead she had thrown herself at him, like the slutty Kiss-O-Gram she had been.

And he had brought Rory along with them.

She did love Rory- honest to gods, she did- but it was more platonic than anything else. The kisses felt forced, not electric- and she longed for lightening. She had been surprised at the readiness to which he took to the idea that there was a time machine, and at the willingness with which he followed the Doctor (it was almost as though he radiated respect and superior intellect) and at the way he handled the life he had been so cruelly dragged into. Yes, she admired Rory, but she wanted the Doctor back for herself. Her and the Doctor, the Doctor and Amelia Pond, the fairy tale, the dream team, saving one star whale at a time. But Rory sunk that ship, without meaning to, without even knowing, and she found herself clinging to the drift wood as she bobbed away on the tide.

Life and times

Falling, spinning, flying, swooping, soaring, fading, gliding, _being._

Stolen, crashed in London on _Earth _of all places. An old man who is a stranger, but not anymore. Earth is his world, as much as Gallifrey is, and I know this. I know him better than anyone, partly because I'm telepathic and mainly because I've been with him for centuries.

He changes, I change to keep up.

_You sexy thing._

I watch him through thick and thin, when he is alone and when he basks in the light of those quirky, brilliant earthlings. He wishes he was them, and yet he's glad he's not. I know what he means. They have such complex emotions, such deep feelings ad such troubles, and yet they live the lives of butterflies- if you blink you'll miss them. Loving them gives his lives a reason.

That's his other problem; one he knows is all too human; he gives his heart away too easily. A smile, an amazing action, a word that sets him falling, it doesn't take much. This time he's only fallen harder, and each time he takes longer to get up. In his tenth regeneration he was driven almost mad by the pain, and the suffering. This time he looks to be free, and yet he's just been ensnared all the faster.

I owe him my life- if he had just picked the ship next to me I would have burnt in the fiery demise of Gallifrey just as the rest of my race did. I may not ave been the most recent, the flashiest, but he chose _me. _I was the one given this fantastic Time Lord, so complex in his emotions and willing to drive a ship made for at least six by himself.

He gave me a name, acknowledging my sentient nature. _TARDIS. _Actually, it was his granddaughter. I loved her too.

He's my Doctor. And I'll be there to comfort him when his humans change and go and come and leave and tear at his hearts.

Falling, spinning, flying, swooping, soaring, fading, gliding, _loving._

Intrepid are we

'Come and explore,' Amy said, holding out a hand. Rory gave it a bemused look.

'You mean… there's more? Than this? In that little box?'

'More?' said the Doctor, goggles back on as he fiddled with the TARDIS. 'Of course there's more, Rory.'

'Come on,' Amy said again. 'I haven't found the swimming pool yet.'

'The swimming pool?' was the last thing the Doctor heard as Rory was dragged off into the bowels of the TARDIS. He smiled to himself, before turning his gaze back to his screwdriver and the panel he was currently fixing… badly.

'I did the right thing,' he said absently, twisting a wire. A light flashed and a klaxon momentarily deafened him. 'Whoops! Sorry.'

There were a few moments more of silence.

'I… did do the right thing, didn't I?' he asked, tentatively. The TARDIS remained still.

'Ah well. Too late for regrets now,' he said, and he jumped back up the stairs before setting the destination on the dials. 'Right,' he said, pushing a lever and spinning a tap. 'Time for a bit of sightseeing.'

He employed his usual method of driving; throwing himself madly around, avoiding the blue stabilizers like the plague. When the noise (he loved that noise- and might as well give warning that he was coming; everyone deserved a chance) died down he ran to the doors and flung them open. Before him the delights of the Cascade swirled into dark space, the beautiful light reflecting off the planets that slowly moved by. It calmed him, reaching into his ever-busy mind and soothing.

Another species on his conscience. Yet more genocide on his hands. His lives were wearing thin, with more and more on each shoulder. Burdened by his choices from just under a millennium of life.

He closed his eyes, pressed them shut, but the light remained burnt on his retinas. He smiled darkly. Eleven tries and he still hadn't got the hang of getting over and leaving behind. But he supposed if he ever did, he wouldn't be him anymore. He would lose one of his last defining characteristics carried through all bodies. His likes, dislikes, loves changed. That wouldn't.

But then, his choices had always been in favour of the best outcome, hadn't they? Earth still revolved on its axis, and so did many other planets

_Not too shabby._

New boy

The door intrigued him. Both Amy and the Doctor gave it a wide berth, and had warned him against going in. His curiosity burned, and that was why he found himself standing outside it, on his own, while Amy slept and the Doctor tinkered. That was all he did. Tinker, fiddle, adjust. Did the man never sleep? Err, did the alien ever sleep?

(sometimes Rory didn't feel bad that Amy tried to kiss the Doctor. At least he wasn't being cheated on with another human; he could at least use that as an excuse)

He gave the door a hard stare, but it remained impassive and refused to be intimidated. Right. Now or never. He probably wouldn't get another chance like this.

He reached out decisively, and then drew his hand back. What if…? No, just take it. With strengthened resolve, he grasped the doorknob firmly and pulled the door open.

It was a bit anticlimactic, to be honest. He had expected something dangerous, or at least _interesting. _But it was just a normal room, white walls and ceiling with a beige carpet. Paint was flaking in the corner. It looked like a room you might find in an empty house.

Sure there had to be something else, he took one step forward. Onto the carpet. He stopped and waited, his heart thudding. Nothing happened. Relaxing slightly, he took one more. And then another. And then one more. Nothing happened.

Nothing. Zilch. Nada. Rien.

He breathed a sigh of relief, and then the floor disappeared.

Rory had to put up with a full week of torment from the Doctor and Amy, along with constant replaying of the tape that had recorded him step into the room and then fall into the swimming pool below. It had turned out to be a 'initiation test'.

'Welcome to Team TARDIS?' The Doctor had grinned and held out his hand. Rory eyed it warily.

'What did Amy have to do?' he asked.

'Oh, nothing,' said the Doctor airily. 'Just wait for fourteen years.' Rory decided he had got off lightly and took the man's… alien's hand. He'd take the quick dip over being stuck on Earth on his own any day.

**A/N : Yes, I know I'm a Eleven/Amy girl at heart, but I love Rory a lot. I mean, he faced off the vampire/fish guy with a broom. That is epic in my book. Although I think his relationship with Amy is more platonic than romantic. I hope you enjoyed these, and I would love to hear some title ideas! It gives me a challenge, and also something to work from. Thanks to Maira der Panda, who has already given me some great ideas!**


	7. Piece of mind

**A/N: I do not own, and spoilers for episode seven.**

Nightmares

The Doctor didn't have a lot of experience with nightmares.

He very rarely slept and when he did they tended to be dreamless, just a blank space, peace between adventures.

Nightmares, and dreams, were dangerous. His mind was set loose to wander through his brain, his memories, his life, and this was dangerous. It grew so bad he started to be afraid of closing his eyes. Sleep could be the time when the things he was running from finally managed to catch up.

In his last body he had almost never slept. He was too busy running, afraid to stop, afraid that if he did he would never be able to start again… It probably explained why he had become so twisted towards the end. It was a shame. He'd liked that incarnation.

Still, even though this one was less afraid of running, more willing to forgive and forget, able to stop, it was a surprise to find himself in a nightmare. And what a nightmare it was. Amy was pregnant. He was on his own. Amy was married. Amy had left him for Rory. Rory had a _ponytail._

Amy had moved on, lived her life. He was forever telling people to do that but on finding his commands honoured he found he wasn't sure whether he wanted it so much any more. She was glowing and happy and _huge._ But most of all, she wasn't his Amy. She wasn't the same. She was a mother now, and he knew this changed everyone.

He had been so happy when he had woken up. And then found himself to still be asleep. And then Amy, her pregnant belly brushing the dust pile that used to be her husband, looking at him with stony eyes, telling him to bring Rory back, and all his failings seemed to flash once more in front of his eyes;

_Then what's the point of you?_

What, indeed, was the point of him? Maybe he should drop Amy and Rory off (maybe in a more exciting place than Leadworth) and leave them to their _human _lives. Maybe he should retire, still at the relatively young age of 907, and open a shop of tawdry quirks. Maybe.

She had been so willing to sacrifice herself, her unborn child, _him, _for a chance of bringing Rory back. And he realised that he should probably stop messing with humans. They may be very loosely related to him, but he had to remember that though they looked the spitting image of them, they weren't _time lords. _Though some were so brilliant, so clever and amazing and suited for this life, they could never be like him.

And he kept forgetting that. Must be his old age.

Dreams

Living in Upper Leadworth. Being a Doctor. Married to the girl of his dreams, who was expecting his child.

It wasn't too much to ask, was it?

But the Doctor was the hero, the one who had the happy ending. Although Amy had kissed _him _at the end of it all, he knew the Doctor would still be there, the invisible wall between them.

He admired the Doctor. He _liked _the Doctor. He was a great man… er, alien. But he had taken Amy without even _trying. _And Amy had taken him, surely as she had taken Rory the first time he'd spoken to her.

The Doctor defined her. He was the reason she was known as Mad Pond, the reason few other children became her friend. The reason Rory had even a _chance _of being her boyfriend, and then fiancé.

There would be no Amy Pond without the Doctor. She'd still be Amelia.

It was something Rory thanked the Doctor for. Everything else, though, everything else could go down some black hole for all Rory cared. His dreams were simple, but seemingly harder to achieve than the top of Everest.

Always second best, the nurse to the Doctor. It was obvious really.

He could give Amy normality, a life, something the Doctor never could. But was that what Amy wanted?

In short, he could give her Leadworth. The Doctor could give her _everywhere._

Instinct

There was one thing that attracted her to the life she had in Leadworth. One thing. Rory was in both, as was the Doctor, but the Doctor was hers in only one.

In Leadworth, though, she was pregnant.

She had never thought of being a mother. Never dreamed of being as big as a whale without the help of chocolate. When she had first woken, she had been scared to death, believing that Leadworth was real and she was about to give birth. But when she woke again, and ran two hands over her bulk, she felt deep, deep feelings stir inside her she had never felt before.

_Would she ever get this with the Doctor?_

The answer was no, probably, definitely not.

Then she had stood in the nursery, all lovingly created for the child that was yet to see the world. A room waiting for its occupant.

The desire for this baby became almost as large as her mind, threatening to swamp her. If she stayed here, it would be for the baby.

The baby she would never know, now.

Outnumbered

When Rory first entered the TARDIS, he had been completely unimpressed at the dimensions. Completely and utterly. He had looked it all up on the internet, hoping that if he was a little bit cleverer, a little bit more spaceman, then Amy would love him. It was a bit silly really.

Of course, he had been a _little_ bit impressed. A teensy bit. But who wasn't, when entering a retro-style Time Machine, complete with flashing buttons and strange knobs.

The Doctor sort of ruined the majesty of it all with his bowtie, though.

So when he first saw the papier mache elephant head handing on the wall in a corner of the TARDIS, he wasn't quite sure what to make of it. He was sure the other two had seen it, that they knew it was there- it just seemed so incongruous, seemingly belonging more to a Blue Peter set than a spaceship.

For some reason, however, the Doctor and Amy didn't seem to realise the strangeness, and it began to bother Rory. Every time it caught his eye, every time he saw Amy glance at it without a change of expression, without it seeming to even register, it bugged him a little bit more.

He didn't say anything. The Doctor would probably look at him as though he was stupid, and give a perfectly valid and obvious reason about why it was there. The conversations Rory could easily imagine;

'_Oh, it's a gift from the people of Ska-frida – it's rude not to accept a present and not hang it in your room.'_

'_Rory, it's a memento from the war of Thelifant- everyone knows that.'_

'_It's the TARDIS's cuddly toy; everyone needs a bit of comfort sometimes, even time machines.'_

He knew the Doctor had travelled for a while with Amy before picking him up; they had inside jokes he didn't understand, memories he wasn't part of- he was constantly reminded he wasn't part of the group, didn't belong. Amy did. She could live without him. It made him feel pathetic when he realised he couldn't live without her.

Eventually, tough, he had to ask. One day, as the Doctor and Amy reminisced about meeting someone famous and dead, he cleared his throat and said, quickly, before he could chicken out,

'Err… what's that elephant head doing over there?'

He pointed, to make it absolutely clear what he meant. Both the Doctor's and Amy's heads swivelled to look at it.

'Oh, that's just the elephant in the room,' said the Doctor carelessly, waving his hand.

'We never talk about it,' Amy said.

'Oh,' he said, embarrassed. Rory's worst fears were confirmed; they were in it together. He left the control room, mumbling something about making tea, and therefore missed the laughing fit that overcame his two companions.

'Pay up,' Amy said, between snorts. 'I said he'd last longer than two days, didn't I?'

The Doctor grudgingly handed her a fiver, but he couldn't keep a grumpy face for long. Rory-goading was fast turning into one of his favourite sports.

**A/N: Sorry about the lateness of this chapter, only I only just watched the episode. Sorry about the addiction I seem to have with italics at the beginning, and my apparent love of making Rory look ridiculous.**

**On a side note, did anyone think the episde was a bit dark for family time television. Not only two suicides, but she was pregnant into the bargain! Sometimes I feel like Doctor Who is becoming rather scary, and leaving the realms of family show for the scary sci-fi that lies beyond. And, not to mention Amy suddenly discovers a love for Rory at the end which is a bit weird considering she was snogging the Doctor not two episodes ago. But I think it had some good bits, too. Anyway, tell me what you thoughts, and please, please give me some drabble ideas! I really struggled with this chapter- 11/amy is a bit thin on the ground. But she dreams of him! Result.**


	8. Us Three Travellers

**RoryAmy****: I'm glad you like Rory. He doesn't get nearly enough shipper love. But this is an 11/Amy story- I'm surprised you read all the way up to chapter seven just to leave a review saying you hate 11/amy. If you want to comment on how 11/amy shippers are wrong, I would be grateful if you don't use my reviews page. Thanks again.**

**I do base my drabbles on the episode, but I wear 11/amy shipper goggles, and they seem to have permanently stuck to my face. Occupational hazard, I'm afraid. I do try not to include it too much in the chapters, though. **

**Meg**

Dark side's blush (thanks to lilac, who gave me this brilliant plotlet!)

It was plain curiosity that drove the Doctor to it, a trait he had always had in abundance but had never used for something as… nosy as this.

Nosy was his middle name (right after oncoming storm). It was what made him want to visit all the planets he had, to explore the universe, to find out why that government was doing that wrong or why that timeline was out of synch. Of course, he should have learnt by now (at the ripe age of 907) that sticking his nose into other people's business was dangerous, especially with the nose he had now. Even though it had nothing on Rory's. Poor guy. He could have it bitten off, and so soon after he'd first got it.

When did he ever listen to a warning?

(Maybe he should start- it might keep his companions safe for longer…)

Still, the thought had been bugging him, plaguing his mind ever since he'd got one over his dark side and blown the psychic pollen out the doors with a final puff. The Dream Lord had been him- his darkness, his self-doubt, his confusion over Amy… he had the audacity to make Amy choose, something the Doctor never could have done (without help- and he would have felt bad for a couple of centuries).

He had also not wanted her to choose because of self-preservation- if she had chosen Rory (which she did, in the end) he didn't know how he would have been able to bear it. Well, he knew now.

He couldn't.

(The Dream Lord would love the darkness and pain that resided in him now- an utter feast- or maybe that had been his purpose right from the start)

What the Time Lord couldn't forget, what the Dream Lord said "_I've seen your dreams, Amy Pond."_He said they made him _blush_. Not many things could make him blush- he'd seen it all before. Or at least, he thought he had.

His nosiness wouldn't let him rest. Whenever Amy went to bed, sleeping in her room (not the same as Rory's- the Doctor put his foot down, and Rory had looked quite annoyed… but then it was _his _spaceship, and she had a delicate constitution) he knew that he could easily slip into her mind, use the TARDIS to increase his telepathic capabilities so he, too could watch her dreams.

But this was invasive and cruel and a _teeny tiny _bit weird and it was _Amy_.

He wasn't quite sure what made him make the final decision; it could have been the way Amy looked at him one time when he had to take his shirt off to bandage a hurt Ral'Jaaska when they somehow got mixed up in the civil war of Jaaskada 4. It could have been his own growing loneliness after watching her and Rory be the happily engaged couple (although it did make him happy to know that everyone thought it was _he_ and Amy who were engaged).

It was also a mistake- the first time, at any rate. They had been gassed –a rather unpleasant experience- and her temple had landed on his hand as they fell. Of course, this gave him access into her mind, and he'd waked through the door without even realising it was there.

He got a bit of a shock on the other side- he'd rushed out almost straight away, back to the comfort of his own, huge mind, away from the one so strongly driven by hormones that was the human's. His only though was _how could Amy be that inventive with only his braces?_

The second time wasn't a mistake. The thought of the last plagued his mind until he was sure he had dreamed it (she's got Rory so why would she dream about _him) _and so the next time she fell asleep he crept into her room and placed a pinkie on her temple before closing his eyes.

He had never run out of a room faster. He had bumped into Rory on the way to the console room and had blabbered something about mechanics to keep Rory's curiosity sated- he had looked strange with wild eyes, bright red cheeks and a shocked expression- before he slumped on one of the chairs by the controls and breathed deeply.

(it looked like his nine year old brain still had something to be surprised about)

What was her obsession with his braces? And his bowtie…

The last time he watched it all the way through. Why had his dark side blushed? He had found it rather enjoyable.

Mirror image

Waving to yourself is a very curious feeling, Amy Pond discovered. Waving to someone you know who also happens to be standing right next to you is pretty strange too.

What she hadn't expected was the overwhelming feeling of wanting to speak with herself. The thought appeared in her mind and suddenly became something she had to do. She would ask so many questions; why had she left the Doctor? Had she truly settled down with Rory? Did she have kids? Did the Doctor ever visit? Did… did he ever kiss her, properly, in the end?

Of course, she had suspected that there would be some rules about meeting your future self. The Doctor had vetoed the idea straight away (perhaps something like this had happened before to him) and she was left with the vague thought of what she could have learnt, could have discovered.

It was obvious she left him, in the end, but what she wanted to know more than anything else was _why. _

333

Doctor Amy Rory.

Travelling through time and space in a small (but bigger on the inside) blue box.

Amy Rory.

Sightseeing the wonders of the universe with the best guide there ever was or will be.

Amy.

She has a small tan line on her engagement finger that many humans, aliens and others unspecified notice, but are too polite to ask about. They all assume she lost her engagement ring. It is obvious who the fiancé is- but she travels around with two men and they don't want to embarrass the spare one.

Perhaps he doesn't know the other two are engaged, and they work _so _well as a trio. Best not to spoil the dynamics, really.

Cross my heart

He puts the ring in the box and lays it on the TARDIS console. He is so very pleased to see her wear it again (even though part of him thinks she is _still_ thinking about when he died) but he didn't want her to lose it. It did cost a lot of money, true, and it was the one thing he has over the Doctor.

A promise.

So he stored all his hopes and dreams in that little red box and shuts it, leaving them in stasis, ready for another day.

**A/N: Sorry about the wait- this week was very busy in the way of exams. Also, this episode was a bit slow, and so I didn't really get much material from it. I hope it picks up in the second half. The next chapter will be late as well- I have National Championships Rowing over the weekend and only come back late on Sunday. Wish me luck! We're aiming for gold this year. Luckily it's bank holiday weekend so the chapter should be up on Monday evening at the latest.**

**If you have any ideas, prompts, quotes, or even single words, your help will be much appreciated.**

**Meg**


	9. And then there were two

**A/N: A bit of a dark chapter but it was a hard episode to find something fluffy about. Please don't read unless you have seen the episode 'Cold Blood' because the spoilers are gigantic. If you don't mind about spoilers (but I suggest you save this until after- it'll make a lot more sense) then read on.**

**Sorry it was late.**

**Meg**

!SPOILERS!

Time trials (Thanks to LostLyra for the prompt 'No way'.)

'No way,' he said. 'Never.'

'Never say never in a time machine,' the Doctor half-sung as he grinned at Rory, laughing at his expression. Rory ignored him, too busy backing away from his fiancée who was wielding a dress and an evil grin.

'Oh come on, Rory,' she urged, waving the (hideously pink) dress at him.

'I'm not wearing that,' he protested futilely as she backed him into a corner.

'The Doctor said you had to,' Amy said, matter-of-factly.

'I don't see him dressing in drag,' Rory complained. The Doctor staged a long-suffering sigh.

'The planet we're going to has banned trousers after that whole episode with the Meladare,' the Doctor shuddered. 'That was nasty. Anyway, if you wear trousers, or shorts, or anything to that effect, even my authority will not be able to stop you being shut in prison for the rest of your life.'

'You could easily get me out,' Rory said, 'couldn't you?'

'Well… yes, but it would mean that I wouldn't be allowed back on this planet and they _are_ the best cooks in the galaxy.' He smirked at Rory. 'So you'll have to put the dress on, I'm afraid.'

'Are you wearing one?' Rory asked, hopefully.

'Me? Of course not.'

'I'll look silly,' he moaned, fully aware he sounded like a child but not really caring, facing as he was the horrifying prospect of exploring the universe in _drag._

'No you won't,' Amy said. 'Everyone else will be wearing a dress. If anything, the Doctor will look silly.'

'Doesn't he always?' Rory said quietly, shooting a pointed look at _the bowtie_. Amy sniggered.

'Oi!' called the Doctor, but Rory ignored him, glad he had a chance to make the Doctor look stupid for a change.

'Please Rory?' Amy pleaded, holding out the dress and giving him a beseeching look with her wide eyes he could never resist. Damn, she was beautiful.

'Never in a million years,' he said, though his resolve was weakening.

'I wouldn't say that- we're in a time machine,' Amy pointed out.

'Yes, I know, I can't really forget,' Rory pointed out, gesturing to the surroundings.

'We can hop forward a million years if you want,' the Doctor said, 'but they might have lifted the ban by then and you _would _look stupid.'

'Please?' Amy asked again, and Rory groaned.

'Oh, alright,' he said, snatching the dress from her hands and hurried to get changed, promising himself he wouldn't look in any mirrors until he got the infernal thing _off_.

The Doctor and Amy high-fived discreetly behind his fast-retreating back.

Somewhere dark (Thanks to IliveADaydream for the plotlet)

It was _terrible _that Rory died, and for him; the poor guy really had very little luck. Too goodhearted for time travel- he'd said before that he had very little dark in him, but actually had had none. He was good, through and through (he'd accepted the Doctor even though he'd almost stolen his fiancé, trusted him with his life, _saved _his life. Always wanting to save others, the nurse anxious to make others better.

He'd always seemed a little surprised at his luck of being engaged to Amy- the Doctor genuinely liked him. He was a good companion, good for Amy (whereas he was exactly _not _what the doctor ordered.

He grieved for his lost friend, and for his existence _Rory was the best of humanity _and he'd tried so very hard to help Amy remember but he'd failed and _what was the point of him if he couldn't save one man._

But he could still feel his darkness, made clearer by the psychic pollen and gathered into a malevolent mass (the 'dream lord') deep inside him and it disgusted him to feel the happiness that emanated from the man who was him but darkness, made up of all his passions and wishes and misdeeds.

He is clapping somewhere secret, though it repulses him (how is he better than the humans, how is he better than the Daleks if this is how he has twisted after so long, a gnarled tree that ensnares passers-by and refuses to let them go). How can he be happy when this great, this amazing, this _fantastic _man just sacrificed his life and Amy's happiness so he can keep the same face, the face he'd become attached to (it was the face Amelia Pond had seen first, and it would carry her impression until it changed again).

And so he travels on with blissfully ignorant Amy, laughing and smiling and flirting when he had just ruined her life and those _cracks kept showing up and why was he the only one who didn't know what they were?_

If anything the Doctor hated, it was being in the dark and his darkness soaked up the annoyance and anger and grief and turned it into a strange sort of relief and made him feel no better than all his foes that he defeated time and time again (but he could never defeat himself).

For all his voyaging and sight-seeing and knowledge-gathering and all he'd managed to do was turn himself into a very similar monster to the ones that he kept vanquishing.

How very human.

Tip of the tongue

Flitting in her mind something she just can't reach at the tip of her tongue if she could just _remember_

_A man, no a boy she grew up with and knew and who liked her despite her mad ramblings about a crack in her wall and a blue box and a man who was as amazing as the superheroes in books_

She knows there's something the Doctor isn't telling her and she also knows what it is except she can't quite _grasp_

_but he was content with being second best as long as she stayed with him and she loved him, she did, but excitement called her name and she had to answer and leave him only for him to get caught up in it all and die _

Sometimes she feels as though she's missing someone, as though someone should be standing by that lever as the Doctor fiddles with the TARDIS and she lounges about on a chair and _thinks_

_and he dresses up for her and eats fish fingers dipped in custard even though he hates fish fingers and really doesn't like custard and she thinks it's because she bullied him into it but it's because he'll do anything for her_

The Doctor picks something red off the floor and it looks strangely like a ring box and for a moment she remembers the feeling of cold metal on her finger but when she frowns down at it her hand is _empty_

_and she remembers this when he kneels and holds up a red ring box and looks at her with such hope and love and what can she do but say yes because the Doctor won't come back now the aliens have gone and the day is saved_

one night she wakes up crying her chest heaving the sobs tearing from her chest and the tears streaming down her face and she knows she's lost someone and left them behind but she can't remember who they are or what they meant to her because the most important person to her is the Doctor now and he will never die and leave her_ alone_

_but now he's gone who's gone someone important but they can't have been important because she can't remember and maybe she should just forget it all and leave it be._

It's flitting around dancing in and out of sight but she's so tired and it won't stay still and it slides to the back of her throat and slips out of sight and she sleeps in peace.

Stolen

Once contained in a small red box, the hopes and dreams and fears of a man never called Rory Williams floats and twists in the whiteness that stole it from the universe and kept it close.

Images form:

_A girl with red hair holding a ring and saying yes_

_A man called the Doctor praising Rory Williams and Rory Williams being his new best friend_

_A girl with red hair kissing a boy called Rory Williams for the first time_

_A girl with red hair walking down an aisle with a white dress and a brilliant smile_

_A girl- no, woman- in a hospital with a newborn baby smiling up at the man who never existed_

_A woman with red hair living in a small village with a few children as the man who is a doctor greets them all with so much love in his heart it could burst_

All these dreams and hopes that the crack had taken from this man, but if he had never existed then how could the crack have stolen them?

Generations

_You must be the best of humanity_

A woman called Ambrose passed this onto her son in penance for the awful thing she did and he in turn passed on the wise words of the man called the Doctor to his children and they to theirs until one day, one thousand years into the future of the Earth, when Homo Reptilia and Homo Sapiens meet for the first (but not really the first) time and make a peace treaty, when two humans walk out and gaze out upon the future world they would have to make their home a grandson of a grandson of a grandson walks forward and greets them with a smile and a warm welcome.

And they realise they have a lot to look forward to in this new Earth, in their new lives, and the man knows he may not see his grandson again but his grandson had made sure he knew that he had not forgotten him.

And they pass it on to the world:

_You must be the best of humanity _


	10. Pictures of Sunflowers

Ode to a flower

He didn't just see colours.

He could touch them, smell them, hear them, _taste _them.

They spoke to him, told him countless tales and described people as only colours can. He saw colours in people- filling their faces and showing their emotions. Most were only a couple of colours, dark when angry and deep when sad. He only ever saw the dark.

So when the two strangers came he knew immediately that they were different. Their colours were astounding.

The girl (who was cute) was the brightest, clearest colour he had ever seen. She burnt like a sun, shining on everyone around her. Her companion, however, was a huge canvas of many colours, multiple shifting subtle shades, every shade imaginable moving and mixing within him (light patches shadowed with dark, darker colours he had never seen) but the colours within him grew brighter when she was around.

The creature shared some colours with the man (the Doctor). The same pain and anguish at being left alone, all alone, for all eternity. He could see it because he could see its colours and that made it visible.

It was both a gift and a curse.

In Amy he could sense a sadness, a shifting blue-black beneath the bright sunshine she emitted (not only because of her lovely hair), a sadness buried so deep it was like she had forgotten it was there. A dark heart surrounded by light. The golden girl cried ice tears, but he was the only one to see them. He had to look away (how could he experience her pain when not even she could remember it?)

They were different. They were special. They were the only ones he told about his gift, the only ones who didn't throw stones.

And they gave him the greatest gift of all.

And he showed them (the bright sun-girl and the subtle-coloured man), he showed them the stars.

And they saw them.

And then they had to go, and they left him with his own colours a little brighter.

He gave Amy a gift of sunflowers- her flower, he decided. A bright sun shining on everyone, following the great star in the sky because she had never looked anywhere else when she already had such greatness in the sun, destined to follow him wherever he went. She was a sun in her own right, but she had a sad heart. A dark heart.

He never told anyone about the monster.

They would only think him mad, after all.

Almost

When she turns, sometimes she can see a third person walking with her and the Doctor, like he always belonged.

Just a flicker in the corner of her eye.

But he is gone by the time she looks properly.

Extra nice

He's being especially nice, and she can't figure out why.

'I'm always nice,' he says, displaying his excellent skill of answering a question without telling her anything.

The Doctor is always nice, although she thinks nice is a little mundane for a man like him.

Exciting amazing breathtaking fantastic, maybe- but right now it is as though he has lost his spark. It's just… nice.

He seems reluctant to touch her, leaping away as though burned each time their fingers brush or their shoulders touch (she would have thought he'd have gotten over that night after the angels by now) and the first time since… a long time he holds her hand while Vincent Van Gogh shows them the stars through his eyes.

She clasps hold of his hand and never wants to let go again.

Later, when he holds her tight as she cries for the man who was never allowed to witness his greatness except for a few short seconds, she can feel his hearts beat against hers and again she feels as though if she lets him go she will never get him back again.

Which is silly, of course, as she'll stay with him for as long as possible. Plenty more chances for hugs and close moments.

At least he'd started to touch her again.

The Outsider

The Doctor had never been haunted before, and certainly not by a memory.

He didn't believe in ghosts, for one thing- there was always an explanation for supernatural occurrences, be they aliens or technology. Ghosts, the supernatural and the 'after-life' were things dreamt up by those who feared death.

He had no need to fear death. It was life that scared him.

But despite his disbelief he was certain he was being haunted. In the corner of his eye, sometimes, just unreachable; other times he stood beside him, clear as day (or night, if you lived on the planet Salgathia).

He didn't, no couldn't understand it. There was no possible explanation of him being there, as he had never even existed except in his mind and though it was very, very, _very _good, extremely good and clever and large, even his mind couldn't create such a believable illusion for _him._

It made no difference how many times he told himself it was impossible- he was there.

What made it worse was that Rory didn't seem to be angry. He just seemed to want to … join in.

He hung around Amy, mostly, as though he was supposed to be there, and the Doctor was very aware of each time he touched her (Rory did die for him, after all).

And there was that awful time when he accidently called Rory's name, seeing him there and forgetting (momentarily) that he was no longer there. Amy had been confused, but had soon forgotten (again). It hurt, seeing her so normal when her world should be falling apart.

Vincent could see the tears she should have cried (did cry) but he was uncommonly perceptive and the Doctor knew that he could be seeing the sadness Amy had felt when she could still _remember._

He'd lost count of how many times he'd tried to convince himself it was impossible (he was erased, he never existed, you're just a crazy old man). _It was almost six times before breakfast._

He remembered he used to do six impossible things before breakfast, and wondered where the magic went. He kept travelling, kept picking up humans, kept losing them and falling a little further into madness but the magic had gone somewhere along the line and the sad thing was he couldn't even think when it left, so wrapped up he had been in his sorrows.

Life to him was becoming more and more of a trial.

Where had the old man on his library card gone? Where had the fun-loving, crazy-haired (sometimes), strangely dressed (most of the time- Rassilon, he had loved that scarf… and that ornamental vegetable) old Doctor gone?

It struck him that he seemed to be having his mid-life crisis. He was only 907, after all. Positively young.

Victory

'Where are we going now?' Amy asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

'Weeeelll,' the Doctor drew out the word as he flitted around the TARDIS console, 'I thought you might want to go to party.' He grinned at her. 'Something to lift your spirits a bit.'

'Why do my spirits need lifting?' she asked. The Doctor looked sad for a moment.

'They should do,' he murmured, before turning his one hundred watt smile back on and directing it at her. 'Fancy getting into costume?'

'If I don't know where we're going how can I dress right?' she asked, swinging around the console after him.

'The TARDIS will put some outfits out- see if you can guess from the clothes,' he said. 'A bit of a challenge.'

'Ok,' Amy said, bounding off to the wardrobe. The Doctor dropped his smile slightly, the effort being too much when there was no Amy to cheer up, and he hoped that their destination would help to cheer _him _up a little bit too.

Amy returned shortly, wearing a jacket with padded shoulders and a short skirt. She plucked at the jacket and pulled a face.

'I'm not sure I like the clothes,' she said. The Doctor smiled, and realised that he was almost disappointed her skirt was a reasonable length. _Almost._

'They couldn't be very creative because of the rationing,' he explained, before realising he had given a big clue to their destination. Amy pounced on his slip-up.

'Ah-ha! So, I'm guessing in the past, on Earth- only on Earth could we wear something as unflattering as this- and in the second world war?'

'Close, but no cigar,' the Doctor teased. Amy's forehead wrinkled, but the TARDIS stopped whirring and the Doctor bounded over to the door, opening it for her with a happy grin. She raced up, rushing through the door, feeling the excitement that suffused her every time she stepped through those doors and found herself in a new world. Or, indeed, a very familiar one, just a lot younger.

The alley she found herself in was obviously not modern- she could see the horizon of rooftops and chimneys were free from aerials. It reminded her of the view over London from the Cabinet War Rooms she 'd visited close to the beginning of her adventure with the Doctor.

'So, if we aren't in World War two, which wouldn't be the best place to cheer up someone, even if they don't need to be, when are we?' Amy asked the Doctor, who had just closed the door of the TARDIS behind him.

'Why don't you go down there and have a look?' he said, looking inordinately pleased with himself. She gave him a suspicious look, before setting off down the alley and emerging into the street beyond. The Doctor was close behind her, and heard her gasp of excitement when she saw the street.

All along the road stretched a long table, groaning under the weight of many plates of food. Union Jack bunting hung from lampposts, and a radio played out from a doorway as the large group of people bustled around the table, eating, drinking, laughing and looking as though a huge weight had been lifted from their shoulders. Which, of course, it had.

'Victory day,' said the Doctor. 'End of World War two. And I think they're having a party.'

'Lets go join in,' Amy said, grabbing his sleeve a pulling him into the crowd, the ecstatic atmosphere already doing wonders for his mood. He knew what awaited them- singing, eating, chatting, listening to countless recordings of their old friend Churchill announcing the end of the war on Europe, and maybe fireworks.

One of the happiest days for this little Island on this little planet in all of time.

And for once, the Doctor knew they had done it all by themselves.

**A/N: I really liked this episode, and I loved the fact the Doctor showed Vincent his work's future. I cried quite heartily, I have to admit. So, usual drill; please review and tell me if you liked it, and if you have any prompts or ideas from the episodes I'll be happy to write them. Oh, and a question:**

**What are you most afraid of?**

**I find that using phobias as monsters in Doctor Who fics can make them more realistic, and I always find it interesting what other people find scary. I, personally, can't even look at a needle on television before I faint. I would be very interested to read your replies!**

**Meg**


	11. Travelling

Red Velvet

At first, there's the mad, crazy idea. The impossible. The incomprehensible.

(he didn't buy it for her- did he?)

It went against everything she knew about him, everything he had said. She had watched him grimace and fluff his way around River Song, his supposed wife. It wasn't him.

(This can't last. I'm 907 years old, so you know what that means?)

Then she looks at it. Truly looks at it. Admires the cut of the diamond, the sparkle.

(every girl likes a diamond)

And then the spark f a spark of a memory alights in her brain, soft and delicate as a feather. Fleeting, but there. For a second she is certain someone special gave her this ring, a very special someone.

She draws nearer and nearer to the memory, the details becoming clearer and clearer.

(she's sure that if this was a film the background music would be building to a crescendo)

But it suddenly slips away, like sand in a glass- her time is up. The thought had eluded her.

The Doctor's voice echoes from behind and she smacks the box shut hastily, replacing it in his pocket and drawing out a red pen. She feels guilty, as though she was never supposed to see that little red box.

And then she forgets.

Normal.

Normal is football and pub and watching TV and going to work everyday.

Normal is having a flatmate and cooking (which he is rather good at, if he does say so himself).

Normal appears to be exploring an upstairs to a flat that has no upstairs in nothing but a towel and an electric toothbrush (well, he was bound to get some things wrong).

Normal is sitting quietly and having a drink with two friends that clearly love each other but are too frightened to admit it.

Normal is singing in the shower at the top of his voice and almost losing his friend.

He can't help but wish, as he watches Craig and Sophie sit next to each other on the sofa, their whole lived ahead of them, all of which they are free to live and love with each other.

He finds himself wishing, just for a moment, that he could do that with Amy. Or that someone else could do it with her (however much his two hearts rebel at that thought).

Because, truth be told, the TARDIS is not a normal place for a human. For him, he's been in there so long he's all but encrusted to the walls. Humans have a good time on his old ship. They learn how to be better people, brilliant people. They see there is more to the universe than just going to work and coming home.

But they all leave (or die) in the end. The TARDIS isn't a home for them, isn't normal. And as much as they want to stay, it's human nature to want to settle down (he knows because he was one once). Amy didn't seem to have shown this yet, but some do have the exploring instinct for a while. One day she will want to settle down, but she won't be able to. And it will be his fault.

Abnormal is what the Doctor is.

Normal is what the humans are.

They look the same, but they are very different.

Take a last bow

1

He's fed up of everyone telling him what to do. He's eighteen, and he knows what's best for him.

He's tired of his dad trying to organise his life, trying to work it all out for him without even asking what he wanted.

'_You will go to this school'_

'_You will do these subjects'_

He's sick of it. Sick. He might have forgiven his dad but tonight he really had dropped the proverbial bombshell.

'_I've managed to get you an apprenticeship at the local garage. You'll be an engineer, like me. You don't have to go all the way to York for university now.'_

This had been the worst thing he had ever heard. He had been proud at getting into York, as he came from an area and a school where most left at sixteen. He had stayed, he had the grades and he wanted more. He completed sixth form and was now rearing at the bit to escape from this place and go to university. He wanted to leave. He wanted _more._

In a fit of pique he had stormed from his house after his dad's pronouncement and paced the streets, listening to the heavy beat on his iPod and fuming. The more he walked, the more he realised- he would get out of here. He would go to York.

Then he walked past a door and heard an old man calling for help. A man that sounded like his grandfather.

His granddad had always stood by him. He had died last year but he knew his granddad would have wanted him to make something of his life. He had to go and help that man, and then he would go to York. He had saved up lots of money from all his jobs, although it had meant he had no social life. It was a price he was willing to pay.

He would get out of here.

And so he started up the stairs.

2

He had just been using her.

_Using her_.

She had thought he loved her. Thought, for once, it meant more.

She wanted _more._

God, she felt so stupid. She was stupid, he was stupid, _this whole place_ was stupid.

She needed to get out, move on, find a man, settle down.

The voice she heard asking for help sounded like the sort of man she'd like.

And so she went to help.

3

There were too many bad memories in this place. She had to leave.

_Her husband her child tangled in smoking metal on the side of the road someone screaming she was screaming oh god it can't be not my little girl not my husband not my beautiful little girl._

It was bad enough she lived on her own, a widow cooped up behind net curtains, letting herself and her former life down the drain.

_Kissing her husband in that house watching her little girl play and laugh and smile and she was beautiful and he was beautiful and she loved them so much it hurt._

Now all that was left was the echo of a child's laughter, a man's whispered words and the sense of being buried in the loneliness and sadness of it all.

_She had to leave she had to go she wanted more than this pathetic existence she had to live properly for them._

So, it was decided. She would move. Live somewhere else. Leave their ghosts and keep their memories.

And then she heard a voice. A little girl, asking for her help, looking for her mummy. Which was funny, because she was looking for her little girl.

She had to help, of course. And then she'd leave.

Not anymore

Craig wasn't a normal man any more. Of course, he acted like one- he went to work, came home, loved his girlfriend (soon to be fiancée, if he ever got round to giving her the little red box he kept locked safely away in his sock draw).

But in his mind he had seen the Doctor's. A centuries old alien, who travelled in space and time in a little (but bigger on the inside) box called the TARDIS. With a girl called Amy Pond. An amazing, brilliant, spectacular girl (who may have been the latest in the long line of his companions but no less fantastic or loved for that) who had no idea her fiancé had ever existed.

The Doctor had shared more with Craig than he realised.

Craig wondered if the Doctor would ever admit his feelings for Amy. Not that he understood the Time Lord's feelings (he was sure that they were much more complicated than his) but he knew how happy he was when Sophie had finally known and hoped the Doctor would realise it was better than keeping it to himself. But he kept a lot to himself, these days. Well, himself and now Craig, not that they'd ever meet again.

If he had one regret, it was not going inside the TARDIS and meeting Amy Pond and seeing the swimming pool and the library and the games room (and Sophie would have loved the wardrobe) but he knew the Doctor never stayed long. He was constantly moving, anxious to outrun his demons while Craig was happy to stay in one place forever if only Sophie stayed with him

And he was sure Amy Pond would follow the Doctor forever as long as she stayed with him.

He hoped it didn't get her into trouble.

Powerful yet powerless.

Struggling against the current fighting to get back to him soaring swooping gliding flying against the loop that threw her again and again and again with her precious cargo randomly pulling buttons that wasn't really helping but at least she was trying…

The TARDIS felt helpless, and couldn't save her Doctor. He was out there alone, vulnerable. There was nothing she could do and it broke her heart.

She could, however, keep Amy safe. And she did. She battled against being thrown into the vortex, knowing and dreading the consequences.

She had to fight, for him, and for the little human girl she had come to love. She came to love them all, in the end. Just like he did.

**A/N: Well, I have to say I really liked that episode. I love James Corden and I thought he and Matt Smith made a great comedy duo. I did think that they gave away a lot of the next episode though. If they had left it with just old clips of the other episodes we would have been suitably excited and the episode would still be mysterious. Now, it isn't. And River Song is coming back. I've heard her described as Stephen Moffat's Mary Sue, and I think that is close to the truth. I'm sorry, but I just can't like her. She just grates on me.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, and please review! Give any prompts (they can be single words or plotlets) you want- I would be very grateful. And thanks for all your fears! They've given me some great ideas for future fics.**

**Meg**


	12. and we've come full circle

**Spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers**

**A/N: Well, that was an episode to leave you speechless. Although I did guess that it was going to be him in the pandorica. I was quite proud of that, but really, if you take what he was saying about 'it' being a trickster, a warrior, and then all the ships had come for it, it was obvious. Sort of. This must have been the hardest to write, for me, and I hope you enjoy the slightly strange way my brain used to make sense of it all. I even have a bash at some poetry (but I don't think I'll be up for the Laureate any time soon). It's really just split up sentences, but I thought it showed the Doctor's state of mind better than another layout.**

**Please, please, please review! It's my aim to get a hundred by the time this finishes (next week! I don't know what I'll do without Doctor Who on Saturdays.)**

**Meg**

**p.s. serious spoilers if you read this and haven't seen episode 12**

_And we've come full circle_

He didn't understand

oh, his head

how could this have happened

he spent his whole time running away from his fears

though what his fears were he didn't know

but they scared him and he had to keep moving

but all the time he hadn't know

hadn't even _guessed_

they had been right to mock him

_the Doctor in the TARDIS doesn't know_

he hadn't known and it had cost him

all that time he spent running

escaping fleeing hiding

if he'd just stopped, for once, and rested

but he didn't need rest

he was a superior life form

the only one left

no one could tell him what to do

he was a lone wolf without a pack

all gone now all dead

his beloved humans looked so much like them

but though they were brilliant and amazing and fantastic

they just couldn't keep up with him

red, the colour of Amy's hair

the little girl he'd ruined it was all

his fault her life was destroyed

her hair was red, like Donna's

red like the sky of the planet he had lost

all that time ago

but technically he had never had it as the

time lock took it out of time

stopped time time had stopped for him

he'd broken time

killed time

oh, he was mad and his head was scrambled

he couldn't think couldn't understand

all he knew was that by

running away from himself and his past

and taking out his anger on every race or person

who even showed a hint of darkness

he had just been running straight back into the dark embrace

back to the beginning

and we've come full circle because

it's ironic

that what he ran from

was in front of him all the time

and now

now

time

he'd crashed, collided,

Bang

_Snap_

Miracles are rare. In fact, many cynics would say that miracles did not exist.

Rory had always believed in miracles.

He'd won the hand and (sort-of) heart of the love of his life. He'd been taken on the adventure of a life time and for a few short brief (all too quick) minutes lived the life he'd always wanted.

Yes, it had been a dream, but it had _felt _real.

And then he had given up his life for that amazing man because he knew that Amy would be upset _inconsolable _if he died and so he had ended up taking the bullet laser ray _whatever._

He had been so sure he was about to die but with Amy's face the last thing he saw he wasn't completely sure that it was a bad thing as such. Yes he had to leave her but he'd always be with her and if she was the last thing he saw than maybe he'd have her _forever._

He woke up as a Roman, wearing what looked like his costume from when he and Amy went to that stupid fancy dress party and she wore that police outfit with that _ohsoveryshortskirt _and he had been utterly incensed whenever another male so much as _looked_ in her direction.

At least he was alive. And they'd come and get him soon. He was sure of it. It was a miracle he'd survived. He believed in miracles.

But Amy didn't remember him and although she didn't seem to have gathered another fiancé he still felt bitterly disappointed. There he was, imagining a _miracle _with the TARDIS materializing and Amy running towards him and hugging him and kissing him and whispering in his ear that she'd never let him go again and he'd reply _I love you._

His belief faded with each passing moment as everything grew steadily worse and then he was activated and Amy wouldn't _run._

He killed her. She was dead. In his arms. He had fought the control, only for her to lose her life.

For the first time, Rory decided miracles didn't exist. Jus a cruel cruel god that enjoyed pushing people nearer and nearer the brink until they threw themselves off in the end.

In the end.

It felt like the end.

But he was sure the trickster god would have something worse or better (for better or for worse) up his sleeve. Rory imagined he was the type to hide all the trump cards .

Whereas he'd run out of Aces.

_All ways barred_

Panic.

She couldn't do it. She was helpless. For the first time in her life, River Song could see no way out. She'd always had an exit. Always had one last trick to blow the opposition out the water.

Not this time. She was going down, with his TARDIS, and she knew it. After all that she'd done to try and stop it, she'd walked right into the trap.

It was over.

The Doctor had always told her she died to save a whole library of people. That in the end she was good. But it wasn't the end, not at all. And that was what she drew comfort from. She liked the power of being in charge of her own destiny. Of course, it had taken all her feminine wiles to wring it out the Doctor. She'd managed. Eventually.

But this went against all he'd said. She wouldn't die like this. She couldn't.

It was inevitable. She'd failed.

Failure had not been an option.

She'd reached a dead end. A true dead end. A stone wall in front of her, death behind her. No choice really but to stay put.

'I'm sorry, my love.'

She really was. It was too late, and she had let the clock run on without watching.

The white light overtook her in the end, but then she had never been as good at running as him.

Will you be strong and stand with me

They stood, silent sentinels, as they watched their worst enemy (a force of good- sometimes) slowly disappear behind the box (Pandora's box- the little human girl had some good ideas in that small head of hers.

History was made. Never before had so many allied against so few. Against one. One who threatened all their existence and one who had always shown himself to be in the light.

_While the darkness ate at his heart._

Once this was over they'd go back to their old tricks of fighting amongst themselves. Right now, however, everyone was needed.

The Daleks, most feared of all.

Cybermen, constant soldiers.

Judoon, ready to keep the peace.

Everyone and anyone the Doctor had meet or seen or fought.

There were many - his life had been very long and the universe was very large.

It was a strange sort of poetry to imprison him on the very planet he had been exiled to by his own people. The planet he had grown to love.

After a while he would grow to hate it.

The Daleks didn't appreciate the links. All knew, as did the others, was that their greatest enemy, who had shouted and ranted and raged at them for killing had the whole of the universes all the universes on his hands.

It was unforgiveable. Not that any were capable to forgive.

'-_and for those of us who can't understand the base code of the universe?'_

2

26

26/

26/6

26/6/

26/6/1

26/6/10


End file.
